


Broken Sky

by FalconStrike



Series: Celebthoron and Idris Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Albinism, Albino Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Disabled Character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Nystagmus, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Slavery, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconStrike/pseuds/FalconStrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idris Lavellan is an sixteen year old hunter who was sent to the Conclave because of the dangers he posed to the Clan. Accompanied by First of the Keeper Celebthoron Lavellan, he had no idea he was about to be thrust into a role that could change the world for better or for worse. Troubled and not a little unbalanced, he struggles to overcome the challenges of becoming Inquisitor while face haunting truths of his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tragety at the Conclave

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea my brother and I had. We would take our Inquisitors, Celebthoron (mine) and Idris (his), and fit them into the same universe. We're co-writing this, but he doesn't have an account so this is on my account.

“So, Keeper Istimaethoriel had the same idea as we did,” Keeper Thelhen said, eyeing the silver-haired elf standing before him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. “I’m impressed that she would send her First to spy on the conclave for her. Does Clan Lavellan even have a Second if something were to happen to you, Lethallin?” 

Keeper Thelhen’s own First, Mihris, stood at his shoulder, her light brown hair swept back from a pale face etched with fresh Vallaslin. Behind them crowded the rest of Clan Virnehn, some craning their necks to see the Lavallan’s First of the Keeper and others more interested in the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the distance. From here, it was little more than a toy balanced on the landscape, silhouetted against the sky and remarkably unimpressive given the importance of the meeting occurring within its walls as the elves spoke.

On this day, in the year 9:41 Dragon, the humans’ Divine Justinia V had called the mages and templars together to bring an end to the war that had begun in Kirkwall four years earlier. The Valo-Kas mercenary band had been hired as a neutral third party to provide protection to the mages, templars, and representatives of the chantry--as well as the Divine herself. None of the Dalish had been invited and yet whatever decision was come to would affect all of Thedas: mage, templar, and elf alike. It was for that reason that Keeper Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan had selected from her tribe a spy to send to the conclave… And it was for that reason that Keeper Thelhen had brought his entire clan to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Keeper Thelhen, Lethallin,” Celebthoron Lavellan said, bowing his head respectfully. “The matter was simply too important to send anyone else. She was concerned that they wouldn’t handle the matter...properly. It’s a delicate enough situation as it is.

“I’m not alone, though. It would be too dangerous,” Celebthoron shook his head at the thought. “Hunter Idris is up at the Temple already.” He grimaced and looked over his shoulder at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. 

“He should be waiting for me, Spirits willing,” Celebthoron muttered more to himself than anyone else and looked back at Keeper Thelhen. “Our Second, Thavron, is capable enough. He’s young, though. Barely has his vallaslin, you see.” Rather like Idris, he added silently.

“Enough of me, what of you and yours?” Celebthoron asked. He warily regarded the elves gather behind Keeper Thelhen, his gaze falling on Mihris for a single moment. “If I may, I’m surprised you’ve brought your entire Clan. Isn’t it...dangerous?”

“We’re not overly concerned,” Keeper Thelhen said dismissively, “What can the Shemlen do to us that we can’t return tenfold? I brought my clan so we may influence the decision reached today. And if the humans decide on a course of action that will hurt us… We are prepared to turn our blades on them.” Behind Keeper Thelhen, a number of his hunters nodded their approval and a few growled with feral anticipation of the potential battle to come.

“Halam sahlin,” one of the hunters muttered, his eyes fixed on the Temple of Sacred Ashes. This ends now. 

“But as you said,” Keeper Thelhen continued, “Enough about us. What outcome does Keeper Istimaethoriel hope for you to witness? And will you, the Shemlen lovers, get in our way if blood is spilled today?”

Celebthoron narrowed his eyes, his pale gaze focused on Keeper Thelhen. He lifted his chin defiantly. His voice carried a chill note as he spoke, “With all due respect, Keeper Thelhen, we are not Shemlen lovers.” Far from it, in fact, he thought coldly. “We, Keeper Istimeathoriel and I, hope to see peace come from today. There’s already been enough bloodshed, we can gain nothing from this strife. If anyone can make moves to improve anything, it’s the Divine. The humans listen to her. They practically worship her,” he said with distaste. 

He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms as he appraised Keeper Thelhen. “I could hardly stand in your way if you chose to wield your blades, but be warned: they think poorly enough of us as it is. They’re stronger than us. They have warriors, Mages, and Templars. If we were to engage them in combat, we would be slaughtered. Relations are tenuous enough, we can’t risk provoking them.”

“If we die today, we die with honor and in the service of our kinsmen,” Keeper Thelhen said stiffly. “I would not expect Lavellan to understand, though. You openly trade with the Shemlen. You would mate with them given the opportunity! It’s as though you’ve lost all sense of honor and pride. But if the outcome of today is peaceful and beneficial to our people, we will not fight them. At least not today.”

“You dare insult our honor?” Celebthoron snarled. “I would never lie with a Shemlen! No Lavellan would! We trade with them because they have what we need and we give back to them. That’s how it should be. We cannot live in isolation or we risk losing what it means to be part of a bigger world! That’s why we’re here, why we’re all here!

“I pray for all of our sakes that no blood is shed. Too much had fallen on these lands. Though, I’m sure you’d revel in a bloodbath, Keeper Thelhen,” Celebthoron scowled.

“The Shemlen would destroy us,” Keeper Thelhen stated, “We dishonor our ancestors if we don’t--”

The Keeper’s words were suddenly cut off by an explosion from the direction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Many of Clan Virnehn jumped at the sound that ripped through the air; a few drew their weapons as though that would somehow help them. Keeper Thelhen’s eyes were torn from Celebthoron’s face to focus on the temple’s silhouette--or what should have been the temple’s silhouette, but in that moment when the air had shook with the sound of the world ending the sky had been torn open and the temple vanished.

Celebthoron spun around. Horror crashed over him. 

“No! No! Gods, no! Idris!” He screamed. He threw himself away from Keeper Thelhen and ran, not away from the explosion, but to it. “Idris! Idris!”

All around him, the ground began to bubble sickly green. The tear in the sky was swirling, forks of emerald lightning falling from the dense clouds. And then monsters--demons--burst forth from the bubbling earth. They were twisted imitations of their spirit selves and they turned on everything living, man, beast, and elf alike. Behind Celebthoron, Clan Virnehn took up arms.

“Demons!” Keeper Thelhen shouted, his voice echoing off the mountains, “Stand your ground, Lethallin! Today we kill or be killed! Dar hanin!” To glory!

“Dar hanin!” the warriors replied before their cries were drowned out by the ringing of steel and twang of the bowstring. Screeches rent the air as demons fell, their wails mirrored by the elves who were ripped apart before their clansmen’s horrified eyes.

Celebthoron didn’t look back as he ran. He could hear the cries of those whom should have been as close as kin. His stomach turned over as a blood curdling scream tore through the air, but still he ran. 

“Idris! Ris!” Celebthoron shouted. 

The earth heaved beneath his feet. A demon rose up before him, it’s twisted arm swinging out it a great arc. It caught Celebthoron in the chest and sent him flying. He crashed to the ground, the wind was knocked out of him. He gasped painfully. His head was spinning as he staggered back to his feet. 

“Ris!” He shouted again. He could hardly tell up from down as the world pitched and turned around him. Disoriented, he looked to where the Temple had been. 

“Ris!”

Celebthoron broke into an unsteady run. Fear drove him toward the hillside. Smoke filled the air, clogging his throat and choking his breath. He coughed as he shouted again, “Idris!”

He stumbled up the hill to what remained of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Total destruction lay before him. Rubble and great chunks of stone lay across the ground. Great green bubbles like toxic gasses rose. Demons swarmed everywhere. The smell of burning flesh overpowered even the smoke. 

“Ris! Idris!” Celebthoron choked, a sob rising in his throat. He stumbled into the rubble. Searching...Searching…

Humans were converging on the scene now. They were armed to the teeth and shouting back and forth. “The Divine… Find the Divine…!” Without hesitation, they hacked through the demons in their path. Like Celebthoron, they tore through the destruction searching… Searching for their holy mother and those who had been with her, searching for their friends and their family, their acquaintances and their rivals.

“I found something!” a voice very close to Celebthoron shouted.

Celebthoron spun around. Through the clouds of smoke he saw an indistinct figure. Then another… and another. They appeared like ghosts, swords drawn, encircling him.

“Stand down, knife-ear!” one of the soldiers shouted.

Celebthoron took a pace back, drawing his staff. Humans. Terror and rage pounded through his veins in equal measure, burning away all sense of judgement. Humans. It was humans who had done this. It was humans who had summoned the demons and killed Idris! It was the humans! 

“Never!” Celebthoron hissed. 

He twisted on the spot, swinging his staff in an arc, sending a fireball flying at one of the humans. 

“A mage!” a soldier behind Celebthoron shouted.

“Don’t let that intimidate you!” Another answered, “He might be responsible for the death of the Divine! Take him alive if possible!”

Celebthoron brought the staff up in a backswing and sent another fireball flying. He twisted and twirled the staff, more like a deadly dance than combat. He turned on the spot, pivoting, keeping one foot planted firmly on the ground.

“You killed him! You killed him!” His shouted. Tears poured down his cheeks and sobs racked his body while he fought, his swings becoming more and more frantic as grief and rage took over, banishing his fear. 

Two soldiers were struck by Celebthoron’s fireballs. Their screams were terrible as they burned, writhing where they stood until they were reduced to little more than charred corpses in the rubble. The remaining soldiers threw themselves behind cover.

“We need to call for backup!” one of them shouted, his voice cracking with fear and desperation.

“Can’t!” another called back, “They found that freak knife-ear, remember? He could blow us all to bits if we don’t keep him under full guard!”

A blast of flame narrowly missed the head of the responding soldier as he called out to his fellows, “Do you think this one’s with that other one? Are the knife-ears behind the death of the Divine?”

“We’ll talk about this later! Think of a way to stop the mage!”

“You killed him!” Celebthoron screamed. His swings became erratic. Breathing hard and fast, pain seized his chest. Traitorous tears blurred his vision. His foot slipped on a piece of rubble. He crashed to the ground, hardly realizing that he’d fallen. The staff slipped from his numb fingers as he crumpled. 

“Ris, Ris, Ris,” he sobbed out the name as a mantra. He wrapped his arms around himself. Shaking with tormenting grief. 

As soon as the soldiers realized the barrage had stopped, they leapt out from behind their cover. One kicked Celebthoron’s staff away from them. The others drew their swords and stood, pointing the blades at the sobbing elf. 

“Knock him out,” one of the humans said in disgust, “We’ll take him back to Haven.”


	2. The Other Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the explosion of the Conclave, Idris Lavellan awakens to find himself alone and imprisoned to be interrogated by Cassandra and Leliana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the game almost exactly. It's following my brother's Inquisitor Idris.

At first, it was like struggling to wake from a compelling dream. Then the pain came. It erupted in the center of Idris’s hand, spreading in the flutter of a single heartbeat to his fingers. It ripped its way up his arm, contorting his muscles and twisting his bones, burning through his veins and setting his joints on fire. He felt his heart stutter as Pain’s cruel’s touch ensnared him, violently squeezing the organ that kept him alive.

Ris would have screamed but the pain seemed to have stolen his voice from him. Tears blurred his vision as he struggled to breathe--as he pushed his heart to beat one more time… one more time… just one more time… And then, just as quickly as it had arrived, the pain vanished. With its absence, Ris suddenly became aware of something else.

He was chained. Chained. He couldn’t move his arms. But his feet weren’t chained. That was good. And there wasn’t a collar around his neck. That was good too. It was dark. Too dark. The ground was hard. He was on his knees. 

Clank, clank. Nearby, someone wearing armor shifted from one foot to the other. Ris’s head snapped up and he looked around him, straining to see through the veil of shadows. There were people around him. He couldn’t tell how many. They were wearing armor, heavy armor by the sounds of it. And there… He could just catch it in the light, swords. They were pointing swords at him. But it didn’t look like he was in a cell. No,.. there were cells around him but he wasn’t in one. Why?

There was a dull aching in his hand again. Almost afraid of what he would see, Ris opened his palm. Smooth, dark skin stared back up at him, utterly normal if a bit dirty. And then it appeared. It opened in the center of his palm like the gaping jaws of a beast, a--a--Ris didn’t know what it was but it seared with that same heart-stopping pain and this time he did cry out. Whatever it was, it was bright and it was green and it was unnatural. But before Ris could try to get a better look at it, the door in front of him burst open with a deafening bang.

Through the door stalked a woman. Her brightmetal armor flashed in the sputtering light of the torches in the hallway. Her face was pale, but set with ill suppressed tension. She ached to draw her sword and drive it into something. The prisoner was coming around!

Her gaze swept around the room, taking in the sight of the guards circling the prisoner. The prisoner. He was chained, kneeling on the floor. She could make out roughly cut black hair. The man looked up at her.

No. He wasn’t a man. He was a boy.

A rough gasp escaped her. How could a boy be responsible for this? 

He looked up at her with pale green eyes, eyes that reminded her disconcertingly of a child being punished wrongly. No. She had to remember what he’d done. He’d killed them all! He’d killed Divine Justinia!

Trembling with anger and shock she circled the boy. She leaned over his shoulder and said in a dangerously low voice, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.”

She clasped the hilt of her sword and came to stand before him. Her eyes narrowed, flashing with rage. She pointed accusingly at him as she spat, “Except for you.”

As soon as the woman had entered the room--cell?--the guards surrounding Ris had stood down. He wasn’t fooled, though. They were still holding their swords, just waiting for an excuse to kill him. And this woman, she must be their leader. Ris’s eyes slid over the scene as he grew accustomed to the half-light of his predicament. Another woman had followed the aggressive one into the chamber but she stood off to the side, silent, her face hooded and pale.

What was going on? And what was happening to Ris’s hand? The last thing he remembered--the last thing he remembered was--a brief memory of a woman in a white robe hurrying toward him, demanding to know what he was doing at the Conclave. He’d been found out! And then… nothing. What had happened after that? If this woman was telling the truth, if everyone at the Conclave was dead except him--

Ris’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Everyone was dead? But that meant… Ris lowered his head, allowing the realization that he was alone to wash over him.

The woman’s jaw tightened when the boy said nothing. Her chest ached suddenly, torn between emotions. How he lowered his head, as though pained. Did he have to look so much like a child being wronged? 

She grabbed the knife-ear’s left wrist and roughly raised his hand. 

“Explain this!” She snarled and thrust away his arm. 

Perhaps if Ris had not been distracted by his grief, she would never have been able to touch him. Her hand, cold and trembling with badly suppressed rage, made his skin crawl and he wrenched his arms back to free himself before he could be tainted any more by her. But his anger, so quick to ignite, was also quick to die. The moment he was free, he felt the danger of his situation all too clearly.

“I--can’t,” he finally said in answer to her question, his eyebrows turned up in his own confusion.

“What do you mean you can’t?” She almost shouted. She began pacing, clutching the hilt of her sword. It would be so easy to draw it in one clear sweep and remove his head from his shoulders. 

On Ris’s other side, the second woman mirrored the other’s movement, pacing, circling him, like wolves or vultures. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Ris said, suddenly desperate. They were moving like they wanted him dead. He wasn’t ready to die! “Or how it got there,” he added quickly.

“You’re lying!” The woman cried. She lunged and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. 

Ris had not way of defending himself. He hadn’t even seen her coming. Fear flashed through him the second before she grabbed him, paralyzing him as he looked into her fierce, dark eyes.

The second woman moved quickly, fluidly, and pushed the first back, forcing her to release Ris. 

“We need him, Cassandra,” the second woman said firmly. Her voice was smooth as silk and just as cool. She paced forward, forcing the first, Cassandra, to retreat. Then she turned back to face Ris. She prowled toward him, her expression cold, merciless. She towered over him and it was evident that it didn’t matter to her whether he was a child or not. 

Ris swallowed visibly. What was this? Between these two women, and the guards surrounding him, he didn’t see a way out of this place that included him keeping his life. And he didn’t even know what he was being held captive for or how he had gotten here! A very real part of him wanted to shout at this woman that he had no clue what she expected from him but the look in her eyes quelled him immediately. 

The woman narrowed her eyes as she gazed down at him. There was nothing but disdain in her voice as she said, “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Cassandra approached again and began circling him. The tension in the air was almost palpable. This was the point they had been coming to, what they had been waiting for. The guards shifted, with eagerness or disquiet, it was unclear.

Ris hesitated. What did he remember? Besides being caught spying on the Conclave, of course. After that… after that… “I remember…” Ris struggled through shifting images in his mind, shapes and colors and--he gasped. Spiders. Lots. Of. Giant. Spiders. A shiver ran down his spine. And there was something else. “Running. Things were chasing me”--he couldn’t bring himself to say spiders--“and then… A woman?”

“A woman?” The woman asked. She couldn’t entirely conceal the surprise from her voice. She crossed her arms and leaned back, studying his face intently. 

Cassandra let out a soft utterance, but kept pacing, circling him.

Ris nodded once. “She--reached out to me,” he said, “But then--” Nothing. What happened after that? Ris lowered his head. He couldn’t remember.

The two women exchanged a look. Cassandra glanced over her shoulder as she began walking the other to the door. 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift,” her voice was insistent, almost commanding. 

Leliana cast one last look at Ris before she nodded once and left the room. Cassandra turned and strode back to Ris. She dropped to her knees and began unshackling him. Up close, he really did look like a child. Perhaps it was his soulful green eyes, or his baby-soft face, or just how young and pitiful he looked. 

To think he’d destroyed the Conclave, killed all those people. Cassandra refused to look into his face, lest her heart be moved any more. He was a killer, she reminded herself. A Dalish savage. The markings over his left eye was proof enough of that.

Ris looked into the woman’s face as she unlocked his hands and immediately secured his wrists with a length of durable rope. She refused to look at him and he took the opportunity to study her, the deep scar on her face, the deliberate way she moved, the anger in her dark eyes. His heart was beating quickly. What did she plan on doing to him? He knew he should be silent and smart but he couldn’t stop himself.

“What did happen?” he asked her as she dragged him to his feet. Odd. He was taller than her… From down on the ground, he had felt so tiny compared to her, like she was a mountain and he was just an ant.

Cassandra looked into Ris’s face for a single moment, hesitating. Her voice was pained as she murmured, “It...will be easier to show you.”

She turned and led him from the chamber and through the torchlit halls of the dungeon. The air was cold and the rough stone walls were damp. From the dungeon she led him up to a main hall, but didn’t stop to allow him to take in his surroundings.

The heavy wooden doors down at the end of the hall were pushed open. Cold air blasted in and snow swirled around them. Cassandra stopped and stared up at the sky.

Over the mountain a vortex had ripped through the sky. Massive boulders turned slowly, suspended in midair. Eerie green light shone from a pillar of green lightning that crackled and flashed ominously. 

“We call it ‘the Breach’,” Cassandra said. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” She turned slowly to face Ris. “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” 

She started walking slowly back over to him.

“An explosion can do that?” Ris asked, forgetting for a moment to fear Cassandra. In the face of this--this “Breach,” little else mattered. The power that seemed to come from it was immeasurable and Ris was mesmerized. 

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Cassandra spoke fiercely. She fixed Ris with her dark gaze, searching his face. 

A crash not unlike thunder filled the air. Cassandra spun to face the Breach. The pillar of green lightning flashed and surged. 

Ris screamed. As though the Breach was drawing him closer to it, his left hand was pulled up toward the sky. Emerald light flashed from the mark on his hand and yet again pain crashed over him. With all his might, he pulled his hand away from the sky, away from the Breach. Fear coursed through him. Would he be lifted off his feet, carried away into the sky by this Breach?

Ris fell to his knees, clutching his hand to his stomach. The light emanating from it turned his dark face a sickly shade and made his light armor glow. 

Cassandra dropped to her knees before him. Her firm voice was laced with… pity? She almost sounded as though it pained her to see and say this, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

So now his hand was trying to kill him too? Fantastic. As if guards, this woman, her friend, and all of the humans wasn’t enough, now his own hand had to join to fight against him. “So I…” Ris panted, rocking back and forth to fight the pain, “I don’t exactly have much of a--a choice, do I?”

“None of us has a choice,” Cassandra said fiercely. She stood up in one fluid motion and dragged Ris along with her. She gave him a shove, pushing him along ahead of her. 

Around the village people turned and stared. Many muttered to each other, all looked mutinously at Ris. Cassandra looked at them and said in an anguished voice, “They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.” Her voice rose with distress. “It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

They walked along a low valley pass to a bridge. The guards pushed open the gates, glaring pitilessly at Ris. 

“We lash out like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did.” Cassandra’s voice became stronger. “Until the Breach is sealed.”

She stopped abruptly and drew a short knife. She turned to face Ris. Her eyes were intense as she said, “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” With that, she slashed the ropes binding Ris’s wrists. “Come, it is not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Ris asked, his eyes focused on her knife until she put it away.

“Your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” Cassandra said matter-of-factly as she led Ris across the bridge. Nearby, a Chantry brother was preaching to a small group of survivors. He didn’t even look up as Cassandra and Ris passed.

The soldiers sitting on either side of their path didn’t ignore them nearly so well. Ris heard someone spit as he passed and thought he caught “knife-ear” muttered a few times. He became suddenly conscious of his lack of a weapon. So Cassandra had untied him, that was good. But he was unarmed and that was bad.  
As they neared the massive double doors on the far side of the bridge, Cassandra called out, “Open the gate! We are heading into the valley!”


End file.
